


Sweep Kick Me Off My Stabilising Servos

by majorwanderer



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Rescue Bots
Genre: Awkward Romance, Drama, F/M, Friendship/Love, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majorwanderer/pseuds/majorwanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rated T for suggestive themes. Oneshot. Meeting again following the events of 'Ghost in the Machine', Heatwave and Quickshadow engage in an overdue rematch, but it doesn't take long for things to take a turn for the unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweep Kick Me Off My Stabilising Servos

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Yes! I have finally risen from the dead. Now, this fic has been sitting in my computer for some time now and I thought I'd share it with all of you! Basically, just as the summary says, this takes place around maybe a month or two after the episode 'Ghost in the Machine', but before the mid season two parter.
> 
> So without further ado, enjoy.

Going through the Ground bridge never failed to instill shivers ghosting across Heatwave’s plating; energy particles buzzing and swirling around his metal in blinding beams of light, emitting strange, humming frequencies that rattled his systems… all occurring simultaneously within but half a nanoclick.

While he was no stranger to this particular method of transport, having already used it in the past, the sensation of having your entire molecular structure rearranged wasn’t something you could easily forget, but neither get as easily accustomed to. The juxtaposition between the two concepts was flummoxing, but quite frankly, all it did was make the firetruck’s engines rumble irritably.

Though, the perpetually uneasy thrum of his spark could merely have just been an unfortunate result of his many, previously ill fated journeys through the massive transportation device.

 _Yeah_ , mused Heatwave decisively to himself before stepping through the swirling portal, followed swiftly behind by the rest of the rescue team.

_That’s gotta be it. Nothing more to it._

“Keep those elbows up!”

The authoritative voice entered his auditory sensors suddenly. An air of grace, forcefulness, followed by the dull thud of metal, jolting him out of his reverie.

“ _Hey,_ watch the paint job!”

Heatwave rolled his optics knowingly. He’d recognise _that_ voice anywhere, with its undertone of entitlement, highlighted by a grating recalcitrance that rivalled that of an overly impulsive youngling.

And there he was, none other than the purple race car himself, knocked flat onto his fender and rubbing his sore hindquarters sourly as he rose to his pedes. His visor retracted with an audible click.

“Sheesh, lady, take it down a notch, will ya?” He grunted, stretching out his supposedly sore limbs with more exaggeration than was necessary. “I’m a racer, not a fighter.”

However, Quickshadow didn’t dignify his whining with a response, instead flashing him a knowing smirk before turning about to greet their guests. Salvage arrived not too long after, having been occupied with the training facility’s Ground bridge controls to ensure their safe arrival (unlike that of last time’s mishap). 

An amicable smile graced his oblong jaw, a jovial twinkle in his optics.

“Welcome back, fellas,” he offered a bulky servo to Heatwave, who shook it firmly in return, accompanied by a curt tilt of his helm. 

“So, how’dya like it, so far? We’ve been real hard at work putting the place together.” 

“I can tell. Looks like things are coming along quite nicely.” 

The firebot’s gaze swept across the expanse of what was once the hangar he had found himself reluctantly in, upon first arriving on Earth: The walls had been completely refurbished with a brand new, glossy coat of paint; no longer the lackluster, chipping grey of its predecessor. And in place of the concrete floors that had been just as lackluster as the walls, were panels of pure steel drilled securely into the ground, sustaining an appealing sheen that now reflected the rays of sun beaming through the very recently installed one way mirror on the ceiling of the centre. 

 _How things have changed._  

“Indeed,” chimed in Quickshadow, a warm grin of her own upturning the edges of her lip components. She reached out to shake the firetruck’s servo as well, who readily accepted just as he had with Salvage. 

 _Although_ … 

She could have sworn that, for just a brief moment, she saw his digits twitch with the slightest hint of hesitation, something that would have gone unnoticed if not for her highly attuned senses.

 _How curious_.

“And we couldn’t be more pleased to say that construction should be completed within the next decacycle. I trust you and your team share our sentiments?"

Resisting the hardwired instinct for her forefinger to rest beneath her chin when in deep thought, the femme watched the mech in front of her, optics loftily half-lidded, and careful to not let her astute stare betray her usual, self assured demeanour. 

“Couldn’t agree more. Pretty amazing to see how quickly the place’s changed in such a short span of time.” He accented his last words with another solid nod of his helm, the faintest of grins plastered on his faceplates. “Great job, Rescue Bots.” 

Alas, his reply was just as steadfast as ever. He knew how to play the game.

 _Touché_.

“Nice to see you too, Heatwave,” deadpanned Blurr lamely from behind. The red plated bot responded with a cautionary narrowing of his optics.

Quickshadow’s smile tilted into a smirk, arms lowering to her sides as she turned about towards the main hallway of the facility, walking at a leisurely pace. Tilting her head, the Ausley Benton motioned for the others to follow her.

“Well, come along then, enough dilly dallying. There is much to see.”

“ _Yes-_ ” the race car wasted no time in discreetly expressing his relief at the temporary distraction from his session with the femme. “Finally-”

“Don’t think for a moment you’re even close to completion of your self defense training, Blurr. There still remains plenty of room for improvement.”

He hung his helm. _Scrap_.

“Now do keep up with us, dear. We have an inspection to help carry out,” she couldn’t help but additionally titter, throwing a good natured simper back over her shoulder at the rescue bot in-training.

Beside her, a low chuckle vibrated thickly from Heatwave’s chest; a noise, she decided, she rather liked. 

* * *

“Salvage, if I may-”

Chase directed the stout bot’s attention towards an area on the large blueprint spread out before them, circled in bright red, clashing marker.

“-It seems that the security detail in this particular space is severely lacking.”

“... I believe that’s the, um… “ Salvage reached to scratch the back of his helm awkwardly, continuing. “That’s the storage closet, Chase.”

The police bot tapped his temple thoughtfully. “All the more reason to increase its defenses.” His optics narrowed. “This must be remedied at once. Quickshadow, what say you?”

Heatwave’s shoulder plates sagged as he forced hot air out of his vents in a huff, massaging his nasal ridge in suppressed aggravation as the femme at his side gave a good natured shake of her head. She regarded the mech, a small amused smile seeping through the cracks of her mask of professionalism.

“Well, I don’t see why not. Have at it, old chap.”

“Excellent,” he clapped his servos together- almost excitedly- and immediately turned to leave, wasting not a second more to accomplish his task. Scooping up the blue sheet, the police car waved over the rest of the team to follow (“Come, come along everyone. Safety measures wait for no bot.”), before moving on to spout a longer series of what were supposedly laundry lists of instructions tailored to each individual present.

As the firebot prepared to join what he knew promised to be just about the most mundane, and useless activity he’d ever had to participate in, it was then that he registered Quickshadow’s absence from his side. Starting slightly, he turned about only to find the very bot he was looking for, striding in the opposite direction of the group.

His gaze flitted back and forth at the two parties in a moment of hesitation, but a moment was all it took for Heatwave to ultimately arrive at a final decision as he jogged after the Ausley Benton’s now silhouetted figure against the concave walls of the hallway she disappeared down, her footsteps echoing quietly in Heatwave’s auditory sensors.

“Hey, where’re you going?”

The footsteps stopped. “Well, aren’t _you_ quite the spy bot. Has sneaking up on poor, unsuspecting femmes become a favoured pastime of yours since the last time we met?”

He reeled. “ _Woah_ , _woah_ , _hold on I_ _wasn’t_ -”

Her laugh interrupted his flustered response as she sauntered back up to him, laying a reassuring servo on his shoulder strut. “Oh, don’t get your knickers into such a twist, Heatwave. I was just pulling your strings.”

Her digits inched closer towards the transformation seam between the barrel of his chest and his upper arm as she shifted more of her weight onto his frame.

Suppressing the rush of energon that threatened to stain his face plates at their oddly… intimate proximity, the red plated bot tugged at the rim of his headpiece over his flushing countenance. “O-okay I think we’re getting off topic here- “ he paused to gently pry her servo off of his person. “- In case you haven’t noticed, you’re meant to be guiding me around so I can do my job. Not sneak off on your own agenda.”

Quickshadow couldn’t help but allow a small bout of giggles to slip past her lip components at his relentlessly stony attitude. Nonetheless, his questions naturally warranted a straightforward answer.

“I merely didn’t see how I could have been of any assistance that they didn’t already have.”

The mech blinked. “... What?”

She lifted one of her shoulders in a half hearted shrug, crossing her arms against her chest resolutely as she adjusted her position, glancing off to the side. “I’ve only been here for little more than a decacycle, and while I may be a fast learner, I hardly see how any of the knowledge I’ve gathered so far of the project’s construction, can be considered of any use to anybody. My presence in the facility’s inspection is redundant.”

“So…” quandary clouded Heatwave’s features, “... you’re leaving?”

* * *

Quickshadow didn’t think she’d ever laughed this hard in all her life cycle.

_Is that what he’s been worried about all this time?_

The femme paid no mind to the firebot, furiously fuming next to her as she doubled over and clutched her mid section with one appendage, the other splayed against her knee joint for support.

Eventually, she settled down from her hysterics and her laughter ebbed away into chuckles. Her companion was still fuming.

“Oh, dear me Heatwave,” she straightened herself, a long exhale escaping her as she stood with arms akimbo. “Why the doom and gloom, all of a sudden? _Do_ lighten up, love-”

Heatwave nearly tripped over his own pedes at the term of endearment.

“- while I may not be quite as well versed in the ways of infrastructure that pushes the proverbial scientific envelope, I am not devoid of purpose to this mission.”

Turning about on her heels, she went back to her stroll down the hall, but this time, with the mech walking closely beside her.

What ensued was a suffocating minute of utter silence between the two as their servos swung together in rhythm with their steps, occasionally, although unintentionally, grazing each other.

And each time they did; each time they made the slightest bit of contact, it somehow managed to send Heatwave’s spark into palpitating fits, beating uncomfortably in its chamber. It sent rippling shockwaves shooting through his spark plugs, mercilessly singeing the ends and numbing his senses.

He was in an admittedly unusual state of mind and was strangely unable to maintain his composure. There was no emergency, no imminent threat, and still, he found himself mustering as much self control as he possibly could, willing himself to remain as calm as he possibly could, to keep a respectable distance, to not seem desperate or excessively over eager to hear more, know more. The last thing he wanted to do was pry or come off as a nuisance, otherwise he’d be no better than Blades was- or come to think of it- _any_ of his teammates.

A part of him hoped that the femme would eventually realise this and continue, but another part of him also silently pleaded that she wouldn’t. As contradictory as it may have seemed, he still had a reputation to keep.

And of course, she did anyway.

“You know,” her voice pulled the red plated bot back into present time. “- Optimus didn’t send me here solely to lift and put down slabs of concrete and duranium girders. I’ve… “ her lull in speech caused his optic brows to knit curiously, but he opted to say nothing and allow her to speak at her own pace. She went on, sucking up the anxiety gnawing at her insides.

“I’ve actually been offered a position here, as a trainer to future cadets. That is, once we have more of them aside from the two fellows that are already here.”

The mech’s optic brows perked in surprise, relief washing through his spark as the tension in his frame left him in a light vent. “Oh? W-well, that’s great.”

The Ausley Benton gave a noncommittal hum. “I suppose, though I’ll admit… being a coach was much more of a challenge than I thought it’d be.” Her optics met Heatwave’s, a self deprecating expression plastered on her face plates. “Not too unlike when I was leader of _your_ rescue unit for those few, short, excruciating hours.”

“I should’ve known, “ the mech growled, the lower register of his voice grating in annoyance. “That _piston head_ Blurr giving you a hard time?" 

“While he may possess an ego that rivals that of the cosmos, coupled with an attitude that could get him into more than enough trouble on a daily basis… he truly _does_ give it his best, I must at least give him that, if nothing else.” 

Despite her words, the firebot growled once more, servo curling into a tight fist. “I swear, if he’s putting you through _any_ -”

“ _Heatwave_ ,” Quickshadow’s tone turned reprimanding as she gave him a sharp smack on the arm. It didn’t hurt- it wasn’t meant to- but it gave Heatwave clear enough pause to stop his biased train of thought. “That is besides the point- ”

“Then what _is_?”

Abruptly stopping in place, the mech and femme were now several steps apart, with the former staring quizzically at the latter.

“I thought you’d have gotten it by now.”

She sighed, resting her helm against a servo tiredly, while the other hugged itself lazily around her torso. “You must understand that… I’m not exactly what you would call the most suitable of candidates for the job. Primus knows why Optimus assigned me such an auspicious responsibility after my blunder.”

Heatwave shuttered his optics. “He has his reasons,” he muttered, and slowly made his way towards the Ausley Benton. Gingerly, he took her servo in his, before walking ahead, dragging her behind him. Naturally, she was quick to protest, tearing her appendage away from his with an indignant scoff before they could progress any further down the hall.

“Just _what_ do you think you-”

“You think you’re a bad teacher right?” The fire truck endeavoured to grab the femme’s servo once more, and as expected, she resisted. 

“Look… You may doubt him but, when Optimus chooses to do something, there’s always a reason. Whether you see it or not. And from what I can tell, it looks like he hasn’t quite given up on you. Not just yet.”

* * *

“What exactly are you doing?”

From where she was standing, Quickshadow watched, uninterested as Heatwave pushed a large wooden dummy from one end of the training room to the very centre, where a large circle was painted on the floor, indicating that the area enclosed in it was meant to act as an arena.

“Getting ready to train,“ he managed through grunts, using the entirety of his weight to transfer the large piece of equipment. “Why, what do you think it looks like?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

Paying her no mind, the mech cycled a heated vent, mimicking a huff as he dusted off his servos and shifted himself into his fighting stance, his servos clenched into tight fists and held out in front of his torso protectively.

“Whatever you say.”

And with that, he was off: fists thrusting forward and knuckles making vicious contact with the wooden sparring dummy. It bent back, giving in to the force of his punches before springing right back up, only to meet the sole of his pede with a sharp crack that reverberated powerfully through the air.

Observing quietly from the sidelines, a smile was unwittingly teasing from the corner of the Ausley Benton’s mouth. His fighting style had changed.

His once rough, and uncontained attacks were now streamlined, poised and polished; including his skill set, which seemed to have doubled since the last time she sparred with him: His strikes were powerful, and launched with purpose, but that was what had made it so easy to dodge them. He lacked restraint, and he still did.

“Your stance looks better,” remarked the femme coyly, politely interrupting the fire truck’s routine. He smirked, puffing his chest with a hint of what she detected as pride in his posture.

“Took your advice. ‘Been working on my form, and then some.”

“I noticed.”

Quickshadow then moved to stand across from him, tucking her left pede behind her other in a ‘T’ formation.

“However, you still need to exercise much more control over your movements, not to mention that you need to aim your strikes about an inch higher- ”

She widened her stance, positioning her servos protectively over the front of her chest plate.

“Care to have another go? Perhaps it’d be more beneficial training with something that actually hits back.” She crooked two digits in invitation, optics glinting competitively. “Or rather, with some _one_.”

Heatwave’s smirk widened evermore. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Stillness descended over the room as the pair slowly began to circle one another, the atmosphere that hovered between them feeling increasingly familiar as the nanoclicks ticked by; so thick with tension one could practically slice through it with a knife, and the sheer sensation of it all tingling and prickling along the mech’s chassis, was electrifying. He liked it.

Lunging forward, the fire truck threw the first punch, and Quickshadow deflected with unnerving ease. Her counter attack came in rapid succession to her defense. Her servo slid neatly underneath his other, which was already preparing to deliver a second blow to the first, and propelled it back at himself.

The sheer force of her maneuver came dangerously close to knocking her opponent out the ring, and for a moment it seemed that history was about to repeat itself.

However, Heatwave adapted; contracting the cables in his legs and crouching low, he regained his footing in the nick of time, a centimeter short from stumbling out the boundary.

“Your balance has also improved,” called out the Ausley Benton opposite him, hardly winded and guard still up. “But you have yet to address your control.” Her visor slid down in preparation. “Allow me to assist you with that.”

She advanced towards him briskly, and instead of meeting her head on, the mech skilfully evaded the incoming roundhouse. The simper on his lip components did not go ignored, and in retaliation, she twisted her pedes and ducked close to the ground, performing a low sweep kick.

His breath hitched.

“I don’t think so!”

* * *

Heatwave’s consciousness came gradually at first; the pounding of his helm slowing to a steady, blunt thudding as his temporarily disabled vision returned in a blurry haze of floating halos, and soft, multicoloured spots that danced before his optics. 

Then it all came at once.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed… two, maybe three minutes? It was a bit of a tossup.

All he could recall, in that split second it took for him to make contact with the arena’s floor, was him grabbing hold of Quickshadow’s forearm, and tackling her to the ground along with-

_Oh, scrap._

It took him a second or so before he could completely register the pressure against his chest.

_He tackled her to the ground along with him._

He craned his neck, and sure enough, there he found her: lying face down on top of him, her legs tangled in his and shuttered optics quivering, struggling to regain awareness of her surroundings without spiralling into vertigo.

Heatwave’s core temperature must have shotten up several hundred degrees.

For the first time in his life cycle, his mind drew a blank slate.

He lit up like Cybertron, faceplates burning with bare, utterly unadulterated mortification as he stared blankly up at the glaring lights of the training room.

_Oh, Primus._

A groan resounded from the femme and her head shifted from its initial position on his chest plate, at long last bringing his attention to the fact that he had had a servo on her waist this entire time.

_This was not happening._

Her helm listed forward, unintentionally touching the front of his own, still in a migraine induced daze as she reached to hold the side of her hammering cranium, visor retracting. “My word, I _do_ apologise for that,” she mumbled painfully, still unaware of their current situation.

“That was a bit abrupt of me, wasn’t i-”

His spark stopped as she cracked open her optics, filling Heatwave’s own with its bright sapphire hue. They held their wide gazes, neither of them daring to blink, silently fearing of what might happen next. 

“I… “ Heatwave drawled dumbly, unexpectedly finding himself incapable of speech at such a crucial moment.

He tried to pull away, to just move- _do something_ \- but also found that it wasn’t just his voice box that had gone and malfunctioned on him. So all he could do was wince and give a gruff, “I’m sorry.”

Quickshadow’s countenance fell guiltily at his plight, and she sat up, her view lowered and shock dissipating quickly.

“Please, it’s… it’s quite alright. There’s no need to apologise, “ she moved to sit up, “It was my own fault for overestimating your abilities like that and I-” 

Her words were uncharacteristically caught in her throat as she suddenly detected the warmth emanating from her side. She glimpsed down to find the mech’s coarse servo on her waist, his digits drifting lightly across her plating.

“Heatwave.” She cleared her vocal processors, returning the firebot’s blank stare with a suppressed, but uncomfortable expression. “If you don’t mind, your servo is… “

The gears in his head finally clicked back into place.

“ _Scrap_!” He reeled, pushing himself a considerable distance back along the ground, the feeling in his legs having apparently returned. His optics flickered shamefully to the floor. “I… I can’t tell you h-how _sorry_ I am.” He attempted to calmly get back on his pedes, though ultimately failed miserably as he stumbled for balance. “I’m just gonna… show myself out now.”

Frowning, the Ausley Benton rose almost immediately in protest, “now, now _hold on_ just a tick.” She grasped the mech’s servo in hers before he had a chance to leave. He twitched unnervingly under her touch.

“Oh, for the love of- would you _stop_ that?”

“Well, _excuse_ me, but I’m not the one going around tackling bots.”

Heatwave grumbled, “look I said I was _sorry_ -”

“- so that makes it alright for you to just walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened? Is that honestly how you want to handle this-?”

He spun about abruptly, staring the femme dead in the optic.

“Well, don’t _you_?”

* * *

When Blurr had been asked to go find Heatwave and Quickshadow, his first instinct was to grouse.

But after a heated debate, one which he was sorely beaten at, the race car complied, and trudged off on his hunt for the two missing bots, albeit with more than a few strong words for everyone that was present. 

He dragged his pedes wearily through the hallways, a long winded sigh cycling from his vents. Hunched over and thoroughly bored, the mech was fully prepared to just throw in the towel and head back with some half baked excuse about why he wasn’t able to find them, until he caught wind of a commotion… and it sounded like it was coming from the training room.

“- so that makes it alright for you to just walk away and pretend like none of this ever happened? Is that honestly how you want to handle this-?”

 _Great_. ‘ _Little Ms. Prissy’ must’ve pushed ‘Big, Red and Grumpy’s’ buttons too hard._

“Well, don’t _you_?”

_Better stop ‘em from doing anything stupid._

He broke into a sprint.

 _"_ I never said that. Besides, you have no place to decide what I want and what I don’t.”

Transforming into his purple vehicle mode, Blurr tore off down the corridor.

_Oh boy, things are gonna get ugly._

He slammed on the breaks, skidding to a stop before the entrance, the screech of his tires pealing and his engine revving loudly. Wasting not a second more, he converted back into his robot mode, leaping swiftly to his pedes.

“Hey you two, you better be playing _nice_ with each other!”

He swivelled about.

“I don’t wanna have to be the one to- ”

The witty one liner he had planned fell silent on his lip components, and he gaped at the scene before him.

Heatwave and Quickshadow were holding servos.

“Oh sweet Primus.”

The two jerked around to face the unwelcome visitor, who at this point, was grinning like a cheshire cat.

“Blurr?” They spoke in tandem.

The fire truck ripped his servos away from the femme’s, visibly shocked at the intrusion.

“This is too rich.”

“It’s not what it looks like-" 

“- Holy smokes, does Blades owe me _so much_ shining wax-”

“Blurr, you take _one more step_ -!”

“See yah!”

He took off without another word cackling maniacally, with Heatwave not far behind him, leaving Quickshadow alone in the training room to laugh for what felt like the millionth time that solar cycle.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading and do feel free to leave any kudos or comments you may have for me, I love hearing from you guys, be it feedback or constructive criticism!


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